Die Another Day
by Delgodess
Summary: She didn't like dying, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. OC with Hidan and Kakuzu interaction. Non-romance.
1. All the Time in the World

**Disclaimer****: Naruto belongs to ****Masashi Kishimoto.**

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The café was a complete wreck: tables and chairs broken, glass strewn everywhere and food splattered messily along the walls and floor. The young woman lay still for a moment, breathing in softly as she tried to get a handle on what was going on. Her heart rose in her throat, threatening to strangle her as she scrambled to her feet, hands slipping before finding perches on the bar counter. She glanced down at them; surprised to see them resting in a puddle of red liquid (Wine?) and followed the scarlet river to a form sitting slumped on a stool.

The girl gasped, stepping back and looking around with new eyes.

Customers, broken and shattered like the furniture they had sat on, waitresses sprawled like litter, their cheerful yellow uniforms torn and blooming with unnatural red roses and Jack, the bartender, pinned by some strange knife to the fractured mirror on the back wall.

But what stood out the most, even with the dead and horror before her, were the still, so still, bodies of the shinobi at the entrance.

She had served them sake, talked with the one with honey hair and twittered about him with the other girls in the back room. He had the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen and a roguish smile to match.

Now he lay bent, the gaping hole through his chest and cold gaze telling her more than she had ever wanted to know.

She gagged, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth and tried to blink back stinging tears.

"Oh my…"

The young woman's knees buckled beneath her, shock turning her eyes wide and adrenaline making the shards of glass that shredded her legs feel nonexistent. She covered her mouth with her other hand, trying to stifle her sobbing breaths and glancing fearfully about the silent room. Distantly, she noticed that most of the liquor bottles lining the counter behind her were untouched and in desperation, she latched onto the simple thought.

It came back slowly, the laughter, the common chatter of the café and the sudden darkness of two silhouettes in the doorway.

It had all happened so fast.

Faster than she had thought possible.

Chaos, screaming, a sharp pain below her ribs and then…nothing.

She just woke up.

Vaguely, the girl recalled strands of blackness leaving her chest, the agony of it pulling at her heart…But no. She was alive and would remain that way.

She ran a hand through her cropped brown hair, unknowingly spreading blood through the wild curls. The girl closed her eyes, willing away panic and getting her breathing back under control.

She had to get some help.

She didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes. The ice from the spilled drinks still hadn't melted.

And if the people who had done this were still here… she had to get out.

_Now_.

She moved to stand, awkwardly noticing how the blood on her own yellow uniform looked more like an ugly orange stain in the noon day light than like a blooming rose.

She froze when the sound of raised voices reached her, the crunch of boots on glass loud in her ears.

"What the _hell_ do you mean, it isn't here? This _is_ the drop point isn't it? Man, what a waste of time!"

She flinched, recoiling away from the men coming from the manager's office and trying to make herself one with the floor.

"It doesn't matter. They knew what would happen if they lied to us. Now they will pay for it."

The man who spoke moved quietly through the room, feet near silent despite the broken porcelain and debris. His deep voice echoed in the hollow café and the young woman shivered, the grating undertone of it setting her teeth on edge. His companion moved less gracefully, either unable to avoided the mess or simply not caring.

"Still," A stomp of booted feet and wood cracking, "I told you we should have killed them when we had the chance. Now we have to track them down and _then_ kill them. Sheesh, they're probably half way across the country by now. How annoying."

This one's voice was smooth, his confidence and even arrogant attitude standing out against the others growling impatiens.

The girl curled slowly into a ball, trying to scoot noiselessly under the bar as the sound of moving fabric and heavy breathing came closer. She peeked out through the decretive wood grating, finally seeing the men for the first time.

The older one, (at least, he seemed to be older) had his back to her, his body and head covered with a long dark cloak. His arms were crossed and his features obscured by the lighting, but it was obvious he was staring his partner down. He shook his head sternly, gesturing behind him at the counter.

"We don't have time."

The man opposite him glared back, huffing and crossing his arms as well.

"Come on. Just this one! I'm behind this month as it is!"

He was young, wearing the same type of cloak his companion had, but instead of covering himself like the other one did, he let it hang lazily over his shoulders, the front open and baring a toned shirtless chest. His blond, no, _white_, hair slicked back over his head, the ends coming to rest at the nape of his neck. Keen eyes, now narrowed in frustration, glared out at his companion.

He would have been beautiful, if he weren't standing so casually on the dead body of one of the shinobi.

The young woman glanced behind her, eyeing the sake bottles on the counter nervously. _Oh_ how she hoped he wouldn't come over here to get them. She turned back, letting her gaze wander down the younger one's body and feeling herself flinch. Why hadn't he noticed that his clothing and skin were covered in blood?

Silence lingered for a moment before the older man sighed and brought his hands up to rub his face.

"Fine."

He started towards the door, nimbly avoiding damaged chairs and lifeless corpses.

"Kill her already. We have things to do."

The girl felt her blood freeze and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

"Don't worry," The other man grinned, manic eyes catching her frightened ones through the wooden slots. "I'll be quick."

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**AN: So... what do you think? A muse caught me and wouldn't let me go until I got it out. **

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	2. See, the Interesting Thing is

"What's taking so long?" Came an irritated voice from the entrance.

The shifting of body weight and clamoring as someone rose from their place on the hardwood floor was far too loud in the dead air of the room. Someone coughed, then answered with a breathless, stupefied response:

"It didn't work."

There was a long pause.

"What do you mean, it didn't _work_?"

She tried to keep quiet, to keep her chest from rising with each desperate, life-giving breath, but somehow she knew it was no good. She was numb, her mind instinctively shutting out the last twenty minutes.

She could feel blood dripping from her body, staining her dress farther and seeping into the leather of her white flats. Her head rested in a puddle of it and she winced inwardly at the strange feeling of the red liquid leaking into her ears. The smell of bitter copper hung heavily in the air, barely masking the rich scents of the restaurant. There was a quiet squelch near her fallen form and she cringed, failing to control the involuntary action.

The girl scarcely had time to react before she was being lifted by her hair, the roots screaming at the top of her skull. Her eyes snapped open at the pain, arm weakly lifting to clutch at a large hand.

Pupil-less green eyes bored into hers, the electric quality of them making her stiffen. She took in the form of the tall man before her, swallowing at the scarlet clouds on his clothing.

The older man's gaze followed the movement of her throat, before traveling down to the frayed collar of her shirt. He eyed the torn fabric of her blouse calmly, and then in one unexpected movement, tore the cloth directly down the middle. Buttons popped and the young woman jerked back, eyes coloring with a new kind of fear and prying frantically at his grasp with both hands.

He growled, shaking her violently until she stilled. He dragged her limp form closer, arm muscles barely bulging from her weight and alien eyes staring intently at her bloody chest. Her breath hitched when his hand touched her and she bit her lip so hard it bled. Rough fingers ran along her ribs, ignoring her lace bra and stopping just above her fiercely beating heart. He grunted, sweeping the fresh blood away from her skin before turning to his companion.

"You didn't miss, did you?"

The young man scowled, roughly pulling back his cloak and pointing at the still impaled pike.

"Does it freak'in _look_ like I missed? _Idiot_."

The masked man ignored the insult, wheeling his head back around and looking at where his fingers still met with her unmarred flesh. An eyebrow lifted in mild curiosity.

"Interesting." He said, tilting his covered head.

He dropped her and the young girl fell on her shredded legs, the splinters of glass loudly making themselves known. She exhaled sharply, quickly pulling the ruined fabric of her clothing together and shifting to relieve the pressure on her wounds. She crossed her arms, hugging her shivering frame as she glanced around the room.

It shouldn't have surprised her that the café still looked the same, but it did. Sun light leaked through the full wall windows at the front of the shop, sending scattered shadows over the desecrated tables and overturned meal platters. The girl looked about herself in a daze, ignoring her tormentor's as they conversed and absorbing the chaos with morbid curiosity.

She spotted the huge jagged hole in the bar, recalling with a shudder how she had been dragged out through it and thrown across the room. She still felt slivers of wood in her arms where she had raised them to cover her face.

The corpses around her were cooling, their life blood drying and staining a macabre mural on the once-clean beige wallpaper. She let her eyes trail over everything, sliding over the strange painted symbol on the floor nervously before letting her gaze come to rest reluctantly on the duo arguing loudly feet from her trembling body.

The young woman flinched, registering their raised voices and glancing between the two fearfully. She let out a shaky breath and carefully moved to stand, trying to avoid the pool of blood she had been sitting in.

"…-othing is impossible Hidan. You have your head cut off on a daily basis." The masked man said mildly. The younger one, Hidan, scoffed, gesturing wildly with a weapon reminiscent of a reaping scythe.

"That's a bunch of crap, besides Kakusu, my jutsu has _never_ failed. It's freak'in _Holy_." His voice strained with feverish conviction, then lowered snidely.

"Only you're a dumb-ass_ heathen_, so you couldn't possibly understand what it's like to be the Holy Messenger of Jashin. I've got a _duty_, see, I've gotta save all you damn idiots, 'cuz you're all going to Hell." He ranted, crazed eyes glinting. The older man, Kakusu, sighed.

"One day, Hidan," He tossed a strange knife casually at his partner. "I will kill you."

He ignored the resulting crash and cursing, choosing instead to pace slowly towards the back of the café.

"Hurry up, Hidan. She's already left."

His cloak flapped lazily as he passed through the still-open back door, the light summer wind pulling at his mask. He followed the small, bloody footprints, enjoying a quiet moment of peace. It was shattered seconds later, a frown wrinkling his brows as the voice of his insane partner rang through the deserted ally.

"GET BACK HERE YOU STINGY BASTARD! I"LL _**MURDER **_YOU IN THE _**GLORIOUS**_ NAME OF JASHIN!"

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**AN: I'm uncomfortable putting harsh profanity in my writing, so I'm trying to depict Hidan as his normal crass self _without_ actually littering my writing with swear words. How did I do?**

**Review**** Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	3. Dreams Do Come True

She hadn't realized just how loud the market could be on market day. How invasive the smell of spices were, or how all the bodies pressing against each other, sweat, dust and greed mixing and churning violently, could make her feel so very, very, dirty.

The girl elbowed her way past a group of arguing salesmen, hoping desperately to put distance between her and the trash littered alley she had just emerged from. They didn't look up as she past and she bit her lip nervously, spurring her stinging body to move faster.

That nobody noticed, or cared, about her obviously bloody and torn state was not alarming. She could already feel her wounds healing, her flesh pushing out the slivers of glass and wood that fell soundlessly as she walked. Drying blood evaporated off her skin and clothing, trailing behind her in long, faded wisps. Soon, the only evidence of her encounter with death would be her disheveled appearance.

She lost herself in the crowd easily, feet moving quickly through the busy streets. She chanced a glance around her, searching eyes roving for red clouds and dark demeanors. She found none, but that didn't deter her from quickening her pace.

The girl stumbled, bumping into someone and falling to her knees. The unexpected pain caused her to yelp and an indignant shout had her quickly muttering an apology. Her voice was horse and she swallowed, trying to sooth the throat raw from screaming.

Had that nightmare really happened?

The young woman stood, swaying, and pushed quickly in the direction of her apartment. She couldn't stay here.

She _knew _it had been real. She had _seen_ it. And if they were who she thought they were…

Biting the inside of her cheek and ducking around a vegetable stand, she turned quickly down a corner, sighing in momentary relief at the sight of her rundown apartment building.

Hers was on the third floor; she raced into the foyer and up the stairs, distractedly waving away the startled greeting of the old landlady. Panting, she topped the final staircase and leaned against the wall of her floor's hallway, sucking down air and tracing the peeling wallpaper with trembling fingers.

She could feel the shock beginning to wear off, tears fogging her vision as she anxiously walked to door number twelve and unlocked her apartment with the key still blessedly in her skirt pocket.

Why hadn't she stayed home today? The Dream had been so _clear_.

The young woman felt panic begin to overwhelm her as the door clicked shut behind her, stubbornly swallowing it back and forcing herself to begin gathering items. She found a knapsack in her bedroom closet; the green and brown one Jack had given her, and for a moment, she faltered. He had been such a kind man, taking her in and helping her. The old geezer had even helped her find a place to live and offered her a job. She would miss him.

The girl felt warm liquid slide down her face as she shook herself, mindlessly stuffing supplies into the bag and hurriedly making her way to her bed room. She didn't have time to think about that. When she was safe she would… yes, when she was safe.

She threw the closet doors open, dragging out an assortment of clothes and ruffling through her dresser. She didn't have much, but she had never cared for fashion and never had the money to buy fancy things anyway. Thus was the curse of the poor.

She flicked off her soiled shoes with a kick, slamming her small feet into an old pair of boots after she shimmied into the most unassuming clothes she could find. She left the laces untied, dragging on a plain brown coat and flinging herself out of her bedroom and down the short hallway.

She was half way to the front door before she realized she wasn't alone. A wave of dread filled her, the all too familiar feeling of a premonition reaching out and gripping her beaten form as it dragged her awareness into a Waking Dream. Time slowed, movement stopped, and colors brightened in her eyes. She watched helplessly as thousands of actions, choices and possibilities, converged and shifted, merging into the most probable future. Then she was released, wisps of the Dream still clinging to her sight. The girl realized that she had stilled, limbs shaking after experiencing hours in the single moment between closing her eyes and opening them. She bit her bottom lip, angling her head down and to her left before turning around slowly.

Kakusu sat calmly on her ratty couch, elbows resting on his knees and the entwined fingers of his hands lightly placed on the fabric of his mask. The young woman swallowed as she met his gaze, her long fingers wringing the strap of her knapsack. He watched her, strange eyes calculating and features unreadable.

So engrossed was she by his presence that she failed to notice his partner in the kitchen. Her head snapped around fast enough to give her whiplash when a loud curse sounded from the adjacent room. She glanced back at the sitting man nervously; terrified now that she knew they had followed her home.

A loud crash sounded and the girl swiveled towards it, hesitantly taking a step closer. She could feel the weight of Kakusu's eyes as she slowly continued to the kitchen, halting in the door way and chancing a look inside. A bloody scythe lay awkwardly on the counter, as if it had been thrown there, and as she looked about the room she was dismayed to find all of her cabinets open; their contents strewn on the floor. Her light eyes trailed from the defiled kitchen upholstery, to the open door of the fridge. A large hand gripped the door, ring glinting as muttering drifted over to her.

"Damn woman. Where does she keep the freakin' sake?" The man rifling through her food mumbled.

Jars dropped, shattering, and she wondered why she hadn't heard the intruders sooner. She glanced back at the ominous figure sitting in her living room, noting how his position had hardly changed save for the turning of his head as he watched her. She swallowed again, wondering if the reason she hadn't run screaming from the building was because the shock really hadn't worn off. Or was because she knew she wouldn't even make it to the front door?

There was a shout of triumph, and the young woman turned just in time to see the bastard who had brutally slaughtered her less than an hour before take a long swig out of her last jug of sake. He made eye contact with her over the rim, smirking and letting the bottle tumble to the ground as he wiped his mouth with the edge of his bloody coat cuff. It painted his face in streaks of red. She shuddered, shrinking back and his smirk widened at the sight.

"Well, look who it is! All bright and fresh and _not dead._" Hidan's voice lowered to a growl at the end, features twisted in an angry snarl as he slammed the fridge closed and crossed the space between them.

The young woman's eyes widened and she stumbled away, trying to keep a distance. She almost ran into her couch in her attempt to back away from him, mentally irritated when her vision flashed for an instant vivid of cognition, the image of her tumbling into the other murder's lap unamusing. She swerved at the last moment, bolting towards the door as more images, memories mixed with wisped predictions, awakened a spike of true terror through her numb psyche and overwhelmed her logic.

The short haired woman braced a hand on the door frame, franticly reaching for the iron handle and preparing to throw back the door and flee for her life. She screamed as a familiar pike found its way through her left hand, sinking through her flesh with a sickening crunch and pinning her to her own door. Tears clouded her vision and she opened her mouth again to scream in frustrated pain, seeing no way out of this, no matter how many times the possibilities shifted.

A large hand clamped over the bottom half of her face with bruising force, drowning out her voice and cutting off most of her air. Another blood stained hand reached past her, splaying casually on the wall beside her wounded limb. A clicking sound reverberated in her ear and warm breath tickled over her bare neck, the man behind her tutting in mock disappointment.

"Now that was stupid. Why would you do something like that, eh _Sora_?"

The use of her name raised the hairs on her arms. She gasped when his grip on her face loosened.

"H-how do y-ou-?"

"Know your name?" Hidan chuckled gleefully and Sora could feel the movement where his chest touched her back.

She shuddered.

He pulled his hand from the wall, letting it trail slowly up her pinned arm before it disappeared from her vision. He shifted behind her, and then something blurred in her face, causing her grey eyes to cross in bewilderment.

"I took it off you when we were, ah, becoming _better acquainted_."

Sora focused on the object before her, mouth popping open in a small 'o' when she realized what it was. Her name tag, the one that she had painstakingly sewed to her uniform, was pinched between his darkened fingertips, and she noted with distant dismay how frayed the edges of the fabric were. It must have been torn off.

She gulped at the familiar image.

Why, oh _why,_ did her Dreams always have to come true?

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**AN: Eh, long in coming? Review please!**

**~Delgodess**


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